<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Meeting Her Family by David___Y</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140603">Meeting Her Family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/David___Y/pseuds/David___Y'>David___Y</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Lifetime [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday Presents, Dinner, F/M, Family Dinners, First Kiss, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Lemon Cakes, POV Jon Snow, Snowball Fight, Weirwood(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/David___Y/pseuds/David___Y</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stark family home stood two stories tall. Made of red-brown bricks, dark brown roof tiles and white stone that bordered the front door &amp; windows, it was proud amoung other houses in the northern suburbs of Winterfell. The car journey here had been a half hour of Sansa telling him the quirks her family memebrs had. He absored all of it like a sponge and felt ready to meet them all. A strange tension began to build. Jon was about to meet the people who could very well become his in-laws in the future: his first impression had to be execellent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow &amp; Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Lifetime [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Meeting Her Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The Stark family home stood two stories tall. Made of red-brown bricks, dark brown roof tiles and white stone that bordered the front door &amp; windows, it was proud amoung other houses in the northern suburbs of Winterfell. It was large, but not as large as one might expect if they knew who it belonged to. Above, the sky was turning a shade of faded blue as the sun neared the western horizon. In front of the house was a flat plain of grass, at least, there should have been. Despite it being the second moon of spring, a thin snow sat on the ground and frosted the trees; underneath, the grass had probably turned to mud. Such was to be expected this far north. Left of the house sat a garage with two plain, white doors; built in the same style as the house it was joined to. In front of the garage, a concrete driveway led to the road, occupied by three cars.</p><p class="western">Jon Snow sat in the front passenger seat of a Webber Flame, dressed in smart jeans, a smart t-shirt and brown, soft leather boots that were tightly lace &amp; lined on the inside with fake fur; over all of it, a dark blue duffle coat. Beside him – in the driver's seat – was his partner, Sansa: who was now twenty-six today, on the fourtheen of the fourth moon of the year. Her hair was red, her eyes blue, skin pale. She was wrapped in a coat of grey, artifical fur. He would have preferred to be the one in the driver's seat to save Sansa having to drive on her birthday, but she had made the very good point that it would be easier if she drove, already knowing where her parents lived.</p><p class="western">Jon turned to Sansa. “Is there anything more I should know?” he asked.</p><p class="western">“Not really,” Sansa replied. “Everything you need to know, you know.” The car journey here had been a half hour of Sansa telling him the quirks her family memebrs had. He absored all of it like a sponge and felt ready to meet them all. Jon gave a nod of acknowledgement and the two of them left the car. A strange tension began to build. He was about to meet the people who could very well become his in-laws in the future: his first impression had to be execellent.</p><p class="western">The pair walked from driveway to front door along a stone path between the house &amp; grass. Leading up to the door on both sides, was a shallow ramp, clearly meant for a wheelchair. The front door was white painted wood, two rectangular indentations reaching up each side of it. A square window, quartered into four panes of frosted glass, sat at the top of the door. A light was turned on in the porch, bleeding through the glass. The knocker sat under the window and above the indentations: the centre of a captial T's cross. It was polished bronze in the shape of a direwolf's head, an iron ring gripped in the wolf's teeth. Sansa took hold of the knocker, using it to produce three sharp knocks of metal on metal.</p><p class="western">An expected chorus of mumbled voices came from inside the house, followed by approaching footsteps. A silhouette appeared through the window, blocking some of the light from inside the porch. The sound of a key turning in the lock vibrated through the door followed by the handle bending downward. Light spilled out onto the doorstep as it opened. Jon blinked and Sansa was suddenly hugging the man inside – her father.</p><p class="western">Eddard Stark was one of the most powerful men in the North. He was the First Secretary of State and Senior Advisor to the Prime Minister, Stannis Baratheon. Dressed how he was – brown, well ironed trousers and a cobalt, cotton long-sleeved shirt – Jon could not associate him with the man who stood in an expensive suit &amp; coat on the TV and in newspapers. He looked like any fourty-nine year old father, embracing his eldest daughter on her birthday. His hair was mostly brown with slivers of silver here &amp; there. A short, tidy beard lined his jaw and top lip. Once finsihed with the embrace, Ned put his hands on Sansa's shoudlers to look into her eyes. His own were coloured a sharp grey.</p><p class="western">“Your mother was beginning to wonder when you would get here,” he said, his northern accent thick on his tounge. It was a sharp contrast to Sansa's own, one shaped by six years in King's Landing.</p><p class="western">“Tell her she worries too much,” Sansa replied. “I had to get myself ready and pick up Jon.” Ned Stark looked at Jon with interest in his eyes. The smile his lips curled into was so warm that Jon thought he might melt into a puddle on the doorstep.</p><p class="western">“My daughter has told me much of you,” Ned said, advancing to offer Jon a handshake. Jon accepted. The grip was strong and firm, Ned's skin feeling slightly calloused. “How are you, Jon?”</p><p class="western">“Well,” Jon answered, maybe too quickly. “Very well. It's great to meet you.”</p><p class="western">“Come on, get out of the cold.” Ned pulled Jon inside and closed the front door. “Hang up your coat and make yourself at home. Sansa's mother and I are still cooking dinner in the kitchen. You two should wait in the living room with her brothers.” He stepped out of the porch hall, leaving Sansa and Jon alone. Jon stared at the door Ned left through and Sansa stared at Jon.</p><p class="western">“You look flustered,” Sansa pointed out.</p><p class="western">“It's not everyday you meet one of your country's leaders,” Jon answered. He looked to her. “I thought he was sombre and reserved.”</p><p class="western">Sansa smiled knowingly. “That's the face he puts on for his co-workers and the cameras.”</p><p class="western">Jon nodded, understanding. “Don't blame him.”</p><p class="western">They hung up their coats. Underneath his, Jon did not have his shoulder holster: he wasn't in public so he wouldn't need it and a birthday celebration wasn't a place for firearms. Underneath her's, Sansa wore the same white blouse she'd worn to their first dinner at the Weirwood, the fabric as loose fitting as it had been. Her cotton, light grey trousers were more form fitting but were still loose against her skin save the thin leather belt buckled around her hip and hiding underneath the excess fabric at the bottom of the blouse. The trousers gave a good inpression of the curve of her thighs and hips.</p><p class="western">Together they walked through the door leaving the porch hall. It took them immediately into a dinning room. The table was long and could seat six on each of the sides, one each at the head and foot. Two large windows sat in the wall at the front of the house, another on wall at the side of house. On the wall at the centre of the house was a closed serving window. Sansa took hold of Jon's hand and led him through a door on their left, leading into the living room.</p><p class="western">It took up the entire left side of the house. Lamps sat on the walls in-between windows, filling the room with warm yellow light. Jon suspected they were LEDs coloured to mimic tungstung bulbs. The side at the back of the house had a staircase leading up to the first floor. No windows were placed behind it; instead their was a chair lift fixed to the wall that must have been for Sansa's paralyzed brother. The living part of the living room was clearly the end of it at the front of the house. Three identical couches sat in a horseshoe layout surrounding a large oak coffee table littered with costers. In the top corners of the horseshoe were square tables holding reading lamps. A flat screen television sat on a unit opposite the head of the horseshoe. The occupants of the couches were quick to shout, “Happy Birthday,” in unison when Sansa walked in. She smiled widely.</p><p class="western">Three people sat on the couches: two were red haired men with eyes the colour blue, one clearly older than the other. With them was a chestnut haired woman who sat beside the older of the two men. She had brown eyes and a slender frame. When she stood to walk toward Sansa, Jon could not stop himself thinking, <em>Those are excellent hips</em>, but the thought was quickly gone when he noticed the younger of the men had negelcted to stand. <em>Bran.</em> He saw the wheelchair sitting in the corner of the room, right of the TV.</p><p class="western">“Robb, Jeyne,” Sansa said, hugging both of them with one arm each. She kissed them both on the cheek before making her way to Bran. Jeyne watched Sansa speaking to Bran, meanwhile, Robb appraoched Jon.</p><p class="western">“Jon,” he greeted, holding out a hand. Jon accepted his second hand shake of the evening.</p><p class="western">“Robb,” Jon replied.</p><p class="western">“I hear you took my sister up to the Wolfswood and she got confronted by a direwolf.” Jon would have taken the comment as threatening, but Robb's tone and perky smile strongly suggested otherwise.</p><p class="western">“Yes, that did happen. I woke to wolf howls and then her screaming for me.”</p><p class="western">Robb laughed, good heartedly. “That's priceless. Just keep an eye out for our mum. She expressed her dislike of you coming earlier.” Jon frowned.</p><p class="western">He was about to reply when two pairs of footsteps came thundering down the stairs. Both Jon &amp; Robb looked to see a brown haired gril and red haired boy running down them. <em>Arya &amp; Rickon.</em> Upon reaching the bottom, the two Starks ran toward their sister. Sansa hugged them both. Jon smiled watching them.</p><p class="western">“How are the two of you?” Sansa asked letting them go. Both replied with synonyms of 'good.' Sansa then gestured to Jon. “Everyone, meet Jon.” All eyes in the room landed on him.</p><p class="western">A silence fell. The person to end it was Arya.</p><p class="western">After turning her head to Sansa, she said, “A bit thin, isn't he?” Robb laughed briefly and Sansa shook her head sighing. Jon smirked.</p><p class="western">“What's so bad about that?” Jon asked.</p><p class="western">“It's just, when Sansa said you were a police officer, I expected you to be more buff.”</p><p class="western">“I think we should be welcoming him rather than commenting on his muscles,” Bran said from his place on the couch at the top of the horseshoe.</p><p class="western">“So do I,” said a woman's voice from behind him. Jon met the eyes of Sansa's mother. Catelyn Stark's red hair was cut to stop half way down her back, shorter than Sansa's. With that difference aside, as well as the clearly older face that came from being fourty-eight years of age, Sansa was the image of her mother. Despite the small smile Catelyn wore, Jon could see hints of a cold dissapprovial. “It's wonderful to have you over, Jon.” <em>At least you have the good grace to play the hostess. </em>“Can I get you anything to drink?”</p><p class="western">“I'm fine, “ Jon answered. Catelyn nodded before looking to the rest of the room.</p><p class="western">“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” she informed before disappearing back into the ktichen. In that ten minutes, Jon sat down with the other six on the couches of the living room and spoke with the five people he didn't already know.</p><p class="western">Robb was the oldest of the Stark siblings. Of an age with Jon, he seemed to take his place as eldest very seriously. Jeyne was his wife of three years. While Robb spoke very openly, Jeyne seemed more reserved. Together they worked at Winterfell General Hospital where they first met. While Robb was a northerner, born &amp; bred, Jeyne was from the Westerlands. She moved because she found her mother insufferable; choosing the North because she knew her mother wouldn't follow her there, hating the cold.</p><p class="western">Arya was the third oldest, Sansa being in-between her &amp; Robb, doing quite well for herself at the age of twenty-three. She was the only of Ned's children to take after him in hair &amp; eye colour, the rest of her siblings taking after their mother. Her profession was fencing. Since she left high school at sixteen, she had been competing up &amp; down Westeros; rising in the ranks and on her way to becoming world class. Apparently her mother had not approved of fencing to begin with, though she eventually did, after seeing how good Arya was at it.</p><p class="western">Bran was the second youngest. He was in the middle of finishing a degree in history. With his unfortunate disablity, he had reserved himself to chosing the university of his home city – the Royal Winterfell University (RWU) – so he wouldn't need to travel across the country up to Castle Black or all the way down to the Citadel, which were generally agreed to be the two best universities for history students. Sam had gone to Castle Black for that reason, as well as wanting to see more of Westeros than the Reach. Bran didn't want to move away because the family home was already well suited to his needs and he'd ogtten moving about it down to a science..</p><p class="western">Rickon was the youngest of them and spent the ten minutes before dinner balcancing on Bran's wheelchair. Jon judged him to be quite good at it, probably from many years practice. At eighteen, he was finishing his last year of college and looking toward university. The career he had elected to choose was one in animal care, the reason being very simple: he liked animals and wanted to help ones that needed it. He spoke of choosing to go to Skaggos University; though his mother would rather him chose a university on the main land of Westeros, everyone else told him to go for it.</p><p class="western">They knew the ten minutes were up when Ned leaned in and said, “Dinner's ready.”</p><p class="western">The seven of them began to shuffle through to the dinning room. Robb stayed behind to help Bran into his wheelchair after politely removing Rickon from it. The serving window was open. With Catelyn in the kitchen &amp; Ned in the dinning room, the two of them worked as a team setting up the table as the rest of them took their seats along the sides; the ends of the table were reserved for Ned &amp; Catelyn. Jon ended up with his back to the front of the house, Sansa on his right, who sat next to her father. Sitting with their mother, on both sides of the table, were Bran &amp; Rickon. Arya sat right of Rickon. Oppsite Jon was Robb. Right of him was Jeyne.</p><p class="western">The meal that had been prepared was that of slow cooked gammon joint accompanied by large pork sausages, roast potatoe &amp; parsnips, boiled carrots, broccoli and califlower; all of it soaked in a savory brown gravy that Jon could tell had been made with run off from the meat. The choice of drinks was dornish red &amp; Arbour gold for alcoholic beverages, lemonade &amp; various fruit juices for non-alcoholic. Arya, Robb and Sansa all went for the non-alcoholic choices because they were driving home. As they ate, it seemed everyone was talking to him and not Sansa.</p><p class="western">“What jobs do you on the force?” Ned asked, cutting into his gammon.</p><p class="western">“The standard,” Jon answered. “Most of my shifts are spent in a patrol car with a partner, roaming around the burrow either waiting for a call to come in or dealing with a situation we come across.”</p><p class="western">“What's the strangest emergency call you've had to respond to?” Robb asked, before placing a piece of food in his mouth. Jon thought for moment, chewing. He swallowed.</p><p class="western">“I haven't had to deal with any 'strange' cases,” Jon replied. “Everything I've done is fairly normal.”</p><p class="western">“Have you been on any drug busts?” Arya said suddenly beside him.</p><p class="western">“Arya!” Catelyn scolded.</p><p class="western">“What? It was just a question.” She turned back to Jon. “Have you?”</p><p class="western">“Not a drug bust, but I have dealt with people carrying drugs and who have taken drugs. Neither were easy.”</p><p class="western">“Sansa said you two saw a direwolf,” Bran cut in. “How big was it?”</p><p class="western">“I don't think that's the best topic for the dinner table,” Catelyn told her son. Her tone suggested frustation</p><p class="western">“No,” Jon corrected. “It was Sansa who saw the wolf. I was–”</p><p class="western">“I thought I said it wasn't a subject for the table.” Her eyes were beginning to burn into him.</p><p class="western">“I was just correcting Bran.”</p><p class="western">“He was mother,” Sansa said leading forward past Jon so her mother had a better look of her. She looked to Bran. “He was asleep when it happened, Bran.”</p><p class="western">“When he should have been looking after you,” Catelyn said. That set even Ned off:</p><p class="western">“Now, Cat. Sansa said it was first thing in the morning and she had just woken herself.”</p><p class="western">Sansa nodded. “If its anyone's fault for me encountering the wolf, it's my own,” she put in.</p><p class="western">“It's Jon's fault for taking you into a wolf infested part of the woods.”</p><p class="western">“It wasn't wolf infested,” Jon replied, defensively. “I would have never taken her out there if she was going to be put at risk.”</p><p class="western">It wasn't like he hadn't beaten himself up for letting it happen. For the rest of their journey back to the visitors' centre, Jon had been apologising all the way for not being able to watch out for her. She had been gracious, saying it wasn't his fault, she was the one who had gone off alone without waking him up first. When they returned to the visitors' centre, they told the workers about the direwolf. A team would be sent to get an idea for where the wolves' territroy was: Sansa and the group the hiker they'd met had spoken to weren't the only ones to report seeing direwolves. When Jon had gotten home after the outing, the first he'd done was have a nice, long, hot shower before shaving off the beard that he had grown.</p><p class="western">“Still, you should have known better,” Catelyn stated.</p><p class="western">“That's enough!” Ned said with a raised voice. Everyone looked flustered except for Catelyn, who kept her stern expression. “We are here to celebrate Sansa's birthday, not bicker about something harmless that happened to her nearly a month ago.” That seemed to soften Catelyn. Ned continued with a normal volume. “Jon is a guest under our roof, he will be treated as such.” He looked to each of his children. “You may ask Jon whatever questions you like.” Jon could see the disapproval in Catelyn's eyes. But Ned's word was law under his roof and Catelyn was a dutiful wife, so protested no further.</p><p class="western">From what Sansa had told him, Jon knew Catelyn Stark was every bit the quintessential mother. She always worked from home so she could care for her children while her husband worked, keeping the household in top shape. Being a politcian's wife, she had to make public appearances, so kept herself presentable. In recent years, Sansa told him once, she'd published a book about raising her family while being Ned's wife. Knowing all this, Jon could not blame Catelyn for her disapproval of him following Sansa's encounter with the direwolf. That didn't make it any less unreasonable, however.</p><p class="western">As dinner went on, Jon would answer what questions that were asked of him by the others at the table. He also observed how they interacted. It seemed that Arya &amp; Rickon were partners in crime – the mischief makers of the Stark siblings – joking about and not taking many things seriously. Bran was reserved and well mannered, holding his cutterly properly, never putting to much food in his mouth, always covering his mouth preemptively before burping. The three younest were easy to interact with each other.</p><p class="western">Seeing Sansa interacting with her family, the siblings she seemed to favour were Robb &amp; Bran. She spoke to Jeyne as any woman would to her sister-in-law. With Ned, Sansa seemed a daddy's girl, though Jon was sure she'd seem a mummy's girl as well if she was the other end of the table, speaking to her mother. <em>Someone might call me a mummy's boy with how close I am to my own mother.</em></p><p class="western">Robb spoke to all his younger siblings warmly and authoritatively; depending on which was more approriate for the given conversation. With Jeyne, Robb was every bit the loving husband: laughing at her jokes, complimenting endlessly, summiting when she pushed him hard enough. Jeyne was treated like a part of the Stark family. <em>Perhaps I will be too, one day.</em></p><p class="western">Ned was every bit a loving, caring, warm, scrict and authoritative father. None of his children found difficulty talking to him. He found no difficulty speaking to his children. He laughed. He smiled. He joked. He frowned when Arya made a joke one might consider off colour; but never did he scold, respecting that his daughter had a sense of humour of her own, knowing that she could not control what she found funny. <em>I would have loved a father like that. </em>Jon frowned.</p><p class="western">“Sansa said you went to Castle Black for university,” Ned brought up suddenly, catching Jon a bit off guard.</p><p class="western">“I did,” Jon answered.</p><p class="western">“Did you happen to ever speak to Benjen Stark? He is my younger brother and a professor there.”</p><p class="western">“Once or twice he came to speak with Professor Targaryen, but I never spoke to him myself.”</p><p class="western">“Ah, so Aemon taught you. Execellent man. Shame he went.”</p><p class="western">“It was.”</p><p class="western">Eventually, plates were cleared, with only the last drips of gravy left. Ned &amp; Catelyn were the two to collect plates, piling them with the cuttlery on top. They moved into the kitchen with the collected plates leaving there children, daughter-in-law and Jon in the dinning room.</p><p class="western">“How big was the direwolf?” Bran asked, excitedly.</p><p class="western">Sansa smiled and put her hand against the bottom of her chest. “About this tall when I was standing.”</p><p class="western">“That's awesome,” Bran exclaimed.</p><p class="western">“What was it like being appraoched a by a wolf that big?” Jeyne asked.</p><p class="western">“I was terrified at the time, but looking back, I'm glad it happened. Not many people can say they've stood directly in front of a direwolf.”</p><p class="western">“Too bloody right,” Robb agreed.</p><p class="western">When Ned &amp; Catelyn returned. Ned held a stack of dessert plates that were painted with the same designs of winters roses as the dinner plates. Catelyn held a large plate, upon which sat a cake. Jon knew by the colour – and Sansa's dessert habits – exactly what type of cake it was. Husband &amp; wife stood at the end of the table, where there two youngest sons sat, to cut the cake into slices. When Jon received his own slice, he quickly concluded that it was one of the most inviting cakes he'd ever laid eyes on. Two layers of light yellow sponge were separated by a thin layer of white cream that seemed to have a tint of yellow that was just barely noticable. The slice was topped with a piece of lemon that Jon could only guess was there for decorative purposes, as the sour juice of the fruit would most likely ruin the sweet flavour of the sponge and cream.</p><p class="western">No sooner had Sansa received her piece did she immediately break off a portion at the thin end of the slice, bringing it quickly to her mouth. She chewed slowly, savouring the taste, visually pleased as her smile was as wide as it could be with a mouth full of food. She swallowed, looked to her mother and said, “You have perfected the recipe mother.”</p><p class="western">Catelyn chuckled. “You've been saying that since your eighteenth,” she reminded.</p><p class="western">“You somehow make it taste better every time.”</p><p class="western">With the edge of his fork, Jon parted a piece of the cake. The sponge was soft &amp; springy, bending downwards with the movement of the metal. He pierced the separated portion with the prongs of the fork and brought it to his mouth. The sourness of a normal lemon was abscent, leaving only a tart flavour to dance upon his tounge. The cream was not overly sweet, keeping itself in check to allow the eater to enjoy the tang the dessert wanted to deliver. He chewed. He swallowed. When the cake reached his stomach, Jon was sure two things: he now understood why his partner was addicted to this particular dessert and that the cake he had just eaten a piece of was the best cake he had ever had the pleasure of consuming.</p><p class="western">He savoured every bite.</p><p class="western">Dessert was finished, the table was cleared, everyone expect Catelyn &amp; Rickon – who got clipped round the ear – shuffled their way into the living room. The two who didn't went into the kitchen to wash, dry up and put away everything from dinner. Bran stayed on his wheelchair as everyone sat themselves on the couches. Jon and Sansa sat together, with their backs to the front of the house again. Robb &amp; Jeyne sat opposite them. Ned sat at the top right of the horseshoe, with Arya to his own right.</p><p class="western">“So, how did you two meet?” Ned asked, an ankel resting on the opposite knee.</p><p class="western">Sansa let out a brief laugh. “You know how I developed that habit of waking up really early and just reading in the back garden,” Sansa began.</p><p class="western">“The habit that got me to buy a bench and have an outdoor light put it in the ground next to it,” Ned followed.</p><p class="western">“That one,” Sansa confirmed. “Well, I never lost it. The first morning after properly moving into my new home, I went to the local park and read. It just so happened that another early riser in the area passed through the park on his morning jog.”</p><p class="western">Arya groaned. “How can you get up so early?”</p><p class="western">“My shifts begin at seven,” Jon answered. “I like time to myself before I have to go to work. The jogs give me that and time to think.”</p><p class="western">“Think about what? You're just jogging.”</p><p class="western">“For example,” he looked to his right, where Sansa sat, “who on earth is that red head I keep seeing on that park bench all of a sudden?”</p><p class="western">Snas smiled at him, then looked to her sister. “Arya, you're the important thing. At least I didn't meet the violent son of another stuck up bitch,” Sansa pointed out. Arya conceded the point.</p><p class="western">Catelyn &amp; Rickon entered, Rickon being the one to have bright red, wrinkled hands thanks to having them submerged in hot water. Jon finally took note of what Catelyn wore: smart denim jeans held up by a belt of woven, coloured straw, a dark red wool jumper that complimented her hair and a simple white, long-sleeved t-shirt without any buttons running up the front; its cuffs &amp; collar poking out the end of the jumper's sleeves &amp; neckline as the loose wool shifted. Catelyn found a seat next to her youngest daughter and Rickon took the one next to his oldest brother.</p><p class="western">“Presents,” Catelyn stated. Said presents were retireved from upstaris for those who lived in the household and from the cars of those who didn't. Jon had already given Sansa his own, so watched as each of Sansa's family members handed her there's. From Robb &amp; Jeyne, Sansa received lemon scented shampoo &amp; showler gel accompanied by a wash tool in the shape of a lemon. Even Sansa shook her head. Bran &amp; Rickon had put their own money together, it seemed, to buy their eldest sister not one, not two, but three bottles of the Imp's Delight, which Jon had learned was her favourite wine and bloody expensive. Sansa admitted that she was probably going to share the wine with Jon and her younger brothers voiced no complaint, Bran saying, “If you're gonna get drunk, better to do it with someone else.”</p><p class="western">Catelyn's face immediately turned to concern. “Please don't tell me you've gotten drunk before, Bran.”</p><p class="western">“No, mum, but I have been round friends' houses when they've gotten drunk,” Bran replied. “I became a vital part of the group as the sober noble.”</p><p class="western">The next to a give their gift were Ned &amp; Catelyn. It was a book, a thousand pages thick. <em>She'll be at that for months.</em> The genre was that of historical fiction and the subject matter was the same as the film he &amp; Sansa had gone to see. It was brand new, the cover image focusing on the hilt of a lone bloodied sword lying in grass. And the name of the author was one he recognised. “That is bloody perfect,” Sansa said, laughing.</p><p class="western">“What?” Catelyn asked confused. “It was a new release and we fought you would have liked it.”</p><p class="western">“There's nothing wrong.” Sansa flicked through the pages. They flowed softly. “You've just gone and got me a book released by Jon's best friend from university.” Robb laughed. Both Ned &amp; Catelyn looked at Jon in pleasant surprise.</p><p class="western">“You know the author,” Catelyn stated more that questioned. Jon nodded. He took the book from Sansa and flicked through it, back to front.</p><p class="western">“He was my room mate and he's been working on this since he left uni,” Jon told them. He found the page saying who the book was dedicated to so he could show them. “And he sent me a copy of every draft to tell him what was bad and what wasn't.” Ned smiled, delighted. Catelyn laughed softly. “He wanted his first book to be perfect and sent a signed copy in return for the help.” Jon looked at the page himself to re-read the dedication:</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>To Jon,</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>the best university room mate a man could have.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>This is for you.</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Thanks for helping me survive uni</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>and thanks for telling me what was shit and what wasn't</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>in each draft of this book.</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Sam the Slayer</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Jon smiled. That nickname for Sam had come as a result of one night when they went to a dorm party: though that name might have oversold it. Toward the beginning of their thrid year, Jon &amp; Sam joined Satin &amp; Dareon (Satin's room mate) for three 10-cases of mixed fruit cider and 4 player split screen on the only first peron shooter Daeron had bothered to bring with him to uni. Sam had absolutely ruined the three of them in deathmatch, capture the flag and king of the hill. Jon smiled recalling it.</p><p class="western">He himself had received a nickname because of his proficientcy in the same first person shooter. King of the hill and the remnants of five cups of coffee he'd drunk at the beginning of the day in preparation for a short test had earned Jon the nickname 'Lord Snow.' For five matches straight, he had been the first get to the hill and kept hold of it for the entirety of each match, using a combination of grenade spamming, the best assault rifle in the game and not touching the alcohol on hand that night.</p><p class="western">The last gift to be given was from Arya. It squished inwards as Sansa gripped the wrapping paper. The smirk Arya was failing miserably to hide was the first warning sign, the squish the second. Sansa smirked, sighed and shook her head at the same time when removing the wrapping paper revealed a packet of condoms. Jon shook his own head as Arya, Robb, Rickon, Bran and Jeyne bursted into laughing. Ned was trying to hide his amusement at what was very clearly a joke but Catelyn was already glaring at her youngest daughter.</p><p class="western">“Unfortunatly, Arya, I think you're getting ahead of yourself,” Sansa told her sister. “We're not planning to do anything like that any time soon.”</p><p class="western">“Why not?” Arya asked.</p><p class="western">“Because we've only known each other just over four months.”</p><p class="western">Thanks to his thick skin, as well as how open he and Ygritte had been to their friends about being sexual active, most of the embarrassment of the moment had no affect on Jon. But that didn't change the fact he was sitting with both Sansa's parents and all her siblings while the current topic of conversation was whether or not he'd fuck her in the near future, so his cheeks still burned a fair bit.</p><p class="western">“If you're not gonna use 'em, chuck 'em here,” Robb said. Sansa passed the packet to him as Jeyne pulled an awkward face. <em>Robb wouldn't have asked for them if he and Jeyne didn't need them frequently. Jeyne is embarrassed for people to know.</em></p><p class="western">Sansa turned to Arya. “Now, do you have a proper gift for me?” Arya pulled out another wrapped gift from behind her. It was a book based in the same world as the series Sansa had been reading since Jon met her. She smiled. “Thank you Arya. I can read this while the author takes his sweet bloody time writing the next book in the main series.”</p><p class="western">Then Arya looked at Jon. “What did you get Sansa?”</p><p class="western">“He got me this,” Sansa answered. She pulled forward the necklace she was wearing. The charm of the necklace was a small running direwolf. It was very simple, though Sansa had told him not to go all out. They were a couple, but with their relationship in its infancy, now was not the time for large romantic gestures. Jon had given it to her when they met in the park and she thanked him warmly, promising to wear it all day.</p><p class="western">Arya groaned. “You could have gotten her something a bit more originial than a piece of jewellery shaped in the animal of her family sigil.”</p><p class="western">“Arya! It is fine,” Sansa told her sternly. Arya started some at Sansa's reply.</p><p class="western">“Alright, alright,” Arya said.</p><p class="western">There was a few moments where no one spoke. It seemed the night had come to a natural end, Jon would not be surprised if people began to leave. He looked at Sansa. “Can you show me the back garden?” he asked.</p><p class="western">“Sure,” Sansa answered. She took his hand in hers. All her gifts were neatly piled on the coffee table as the two of them went to the porch to put on their coats. When they stepped out the back door, both of them looked up at the sky. It was covered from end to end with clouds that were coloured a dark, moody orange thanks to the light of the city refelcting off of them.</p><p class="western">Snow fell.</p><p class="western">The pair of them <em>crunched</em> their way down the garden. Hidden by the snow was a stone path that seemed to lead all the way to the bottom where a modestly sized Weirwood tree grew beside a pond covered in a thin layer of cie. Light spilled out the back windows of the house's bottom floor. The bench Ned had mentioned sat halfway down the garden with a tall lamp either side. Jon &amp; Sansa continued all the way down to the Weirwood.</p><p class="western">“So how did you find them all?” Sansa asked.</p><p class="western">“Your mother's the only one I'm not too keen on,” Jon admitted.</p><p class="western">Sansa sighed. “I expected her to act as she did. When I told her over the phone I had come face to face a direwolf, she immediately sounded disapproving of you. Just give her time to know you better, I'm sure she'll warm to you.” She looked at the tree. “It's not as impressive as the one in the Wolfswood, but its the one I grew up with.”</p><p class="western">Jon smiled. “It's alright. Not many Weirwoods can compare to that one.” He brought Sansa into a hug. It was soft and warm, her arms finding their way around his neck. “Your family is wonderful. I look forward to spending time with them in future.”</p><p class="western">“When will I meet your mother?”</p><p class="western">“When we organise a day for it?”</p><p class="western">Sansa smiled, showing the bottom of her top teeth. They were straight and a pleasant shade of white. Jon took a moment to appreciate just how beautiful Sansa was: while it wasn't the main reason he liked her, it certainly helped. Her hair was the perfect shade of red to compliment her blue eyes, her pale skin helping to let them stand out. Her cheekbones were high and nose not too pointed, not too flat. Her lips were a pretty shade of pink and looked mighty soft. Before he had realised it, Jon leaned forward and pressed his own against them.</p><p class="western">They felt as soft as they looked.</p><p class="western">Sansa yielded to the kiss and returned it with a similar strength. Jon had closed his eyes, so the only things he registered were Sansa's body &amp; lips as well as the cold, soft whistle of the wind. He could not say for how long they held the kiss. It was their first. Before now the most they had shared were tight embraces that lasted no more than a matter of seconds. This kiss felt like an eternity. An eternity that ended when he heard the back door of the house open, only to be followed by the voices of Arya and Rickon shouting from it:</p><p class="western">“SANSA AND JON SITTING IN THE TREE, K, I, S, S, I, N, G!” The pair of them broke from the embrace, the shock only lasting a moment before Sansa commited to a retaliation. “FIRST COMES LOVE,” Sansa bent down and clawed at the snow, “THEN COMES MARRIAGE,” she stood straight, began running toward the house, “THEN COMES A BABY IN THE BABY CARRIAGE.” Sansa pelted her snowball square at Arya's face. The pair in the doorway were not quick enough to close it, so snow scattered against the wall inside and caught Rickon in the head as well.</p><p class="western">The youngest Stark was quick to retaliate himself, jumping out of the door in just socks and getting a snowball ready with his bare hands. Sansa recognised the threat and sought out rearming herself, however, she couldn't do so quickly enough. Rickon's snowball hit Sansa on the top of the head as she was forming her own. Arya at this point had recvoered from Sansa's attack and was joining Rickon. Jon saw that he needed to provide support to his partner, advancing toward the house and collecting snow for his own snowball.</p><p class="western">Very soon, it became all out war.</p><p class="western">Robb &amp; Jeyne answered the call to arms: both of them joining Sansa &amp; Jon. Bran made his way out of the house, down the ramp in front of the door, joining Arya &amp; Rickon; which wasn't very fair because on one wanted to hit a person in a wheelchair. Ned &amp; Catelyn soon emerged. The father joined his youngest children, giving Jon traumatic flashbacks to when the P.E. teacher would join the opposite team, while the mother remained the conscientious objector, standing in the door way with her arms folded and shaking her head; failing to hide a small smile. Jon suspected Ned only joined his youngest to keep the numbers even.</p><p class="western">The war ended when Catelyn yelled, “Alright, that's enough,” and her husband agreed. Snowballs were beginning to fly more quickly and with more force. She probably suspected that it wouldn't be long before one landed badly. Jon was glad for it: his hands were bright red and numb from the cold.</p><p class="western">Checking the time, it became clear that the two of them needed to set off. Jon &amp; Sansa began work at the normal time tomorrow and they would already be going to bed later than they normally would. The pair of them said their goodbyes and promises to see people in future. Sansa carried her presents and Jon carried a box Catelyn had put the left over cake into for Sansa to take home.</p><p class="western">When she pulled up in front of Jon's house, Sansa looked over to him, “Will I see you tomorrow morning?”</p><p class="western">Jon shook his head. “I think I'm going to have to skip the morning jog,” he replied. “I promise to call you once I get back from work though.”</p><p class="western">“I'll speak to you then.”</p><p class="western">For some reason, Jon did not immediately leave the car. He just sat there, staring at Sansa, who never yielded her eye contact. Then, for the second time that night, Jon leaned forward and met Sansa's lips with his own. He placed a hand against the side of her face, caressing the cheek with his thumb. Both of them smiled into the kiss. They opened their eyes a few seconds before breaking off. Jon lost himself in Sansa's, only finding himself again when breaking away.</p><p class="western">“Speak to you tomorrow,” she said, her smile wide.</p><p class="western">“You too,” Jon replied before popping open his door and stepping out of the car.</p><p class="western">He waved her off from the pavement before heading to his front door. Once inside, he locked the door behind him. Jon made his way upstairs, got into his dark blue, cotton pyjamas, cleaned his teeth and tucked himself into his double bed, reading a hand full of pages from Sam's book before drifting off to the land of sleep where a dream of a direwolf looking after his pack awaited him: the same dream he'd been having since returning from the Wolfswood.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>